Lacy Ruffles
by afullmargin
Summary: Explicit. M/M. Murdock finds a pair of panties in Face's hotel room… no shocker there.


**Rating**: Explicit

**Notes**: Okay, so this is basically self-service kinking. PWP, nothing really deep to be had here beyond my adoration of masculine men in frilly underthings. *grin*

**Warnings**: Panties-crossdressing

**Disclaimer**: This is a work of fictional parody in no way intended to infringe upon the rights of any individual or corporate entity. Any and all characters or celebrity personae belong to their rightful owners. Absolutely no money has or will be gained from this work. Please do not publicly link, repost or redistribute without letting me know first.

**Written**: 3/2013

* * *

One week of shore leave means beaches and board shorts and girls in bikinis. It means hotels with walls thin enough to hear every grunt, moan, whimper and thump of the headboard. It means wrestling on the beach and sand in places someone has to help you reach in the shower. It means getting tossed off Face's shoulders into the ocean and then getting dragged back on shore for kisses and maybe more.

It means one night Face falls asleep in a hammock Murdock can see from their windows with a bottle of tequila half gone and wakes up with a blonde in his arms helping him forget he was dumped almost a month ago – and it means he watches it sway as minimal clothes become no clothes and wondering if maybe he shouldn't have tried it first.

But he can't fix it, he knows that. It's just his way – get dumped and proceed to prove his virility with as many new conquests as he can manage. Murdock's not new; he's a trusty path that'll always be there. And he wouldn't have it any other way, any of it.

He's back in the hammock when Murdock lets himself into Face's room – he's not sneaking, there's nothing to hide from each other, but he's pretty sure the last place he had his swim trunks was right before falling madly into bed with a belly full of barbecue and umbrella drinks the night before. He flops across the bed to reach over the side, digging for fabric and coming back with a small fistful.

Face's white t-shirt smells like coconut and charcoal and sand, Murdock presses it against his face only a moment before unwinding it from his pink and orange shorts. Caught between them is something unexpected – a nest of pink ruffles.

At first he thinks it's probably some girl's swimsuit that'd been left behind, but when he stretches them between his fingers, the shorts dropping to the floor to resume their tryst with Face's shirt, they're much too fine to be bikini bottoms. Soft baby pink lace ruffles overlap all the way around with a sheer panel underneath, and when he turns it over in his hands a purple and pink bow catches against his thumb and draws a wide smile.

They have a way of sticking around somehow, and Murdock suspects they might be something like trophies – he knows if he had a pair of lacy underthings like that he wouldn't leave them behind. Usually they're black or red, sometimes white – skimpy little things too with strings to hold them up. Sosa liked those best if the ones Face burned were any indication. They never fit right, always leaving him poking out the side or the top – definitely too small even if they'd been the right size.

But these… he runs his fingers lovingly over the lace, his grin fading as the thought lingers with him. These are substantial; cut to show a little flash of the thighs and sit low on woman's hips – just a tease, not the whole show. Just the sort he might wear himself if they stayed put as well as briefs under a flight suit or shorts.

He pushes up off the bed, clutching them to his chest as he peeks out the window to see Face still alone in his hammock with a guitar slung across his bare abs. His plan to get changed and head down to join him could wait a little longer… at least long enough to satiate curiosity.

Not that his curiosity was ever fully satisfied.

A mirror that goes down to his knees is bolted to the bathroom door and he opens it to watch as he takes down his khaki shorts and kicks off his flip flops – leaving him bare legged in an open Hawaiian shirt that follows soon after. He turns the panties over his fingers again – examining them thoroughly as he tries to remember the woman they might have belong to.

There was a brunette at the barbecue they'd crashed the night before, leggy girl with pleasant curves – they had to be hers. She was into motorcycles and laughed when he joked about the three of them renting a bike with a sidecar and rolling down to Cabo for more drinks – said she only rolls with straight guys. Face must've gotten into her jeans and leather jacket easily enough.

He has that effect on women. And men. And some animals and inanimate objects. It's one of the reasons he's so good at what he does.

Murdock shifts on his feet and glances over his shoulder and out the window just a second before drawing the soft fabric over his legs.

That's what drew him in the first time – feeling how soft they were against his fingertips and thighs, all silk and heat and 'don't stop, don't stop'. And when the girl who'd asked him if he would try it was gone, she told him to keep them to remember her by. God knows how long it's been and he can't even remember her name, but he remembers the way the silk shifted with him every time he moved and drove him wild.

These are different; the lace is soft but not as soft as silk or slippery like satin. It catches on the small hairs as he drags them up over his thighs – the elastic stretching just enough to crush against his skin when he rocks his hips to shift them just into the right place. "Oh yeah…" he murmurs to himself, running both fingers around the inside of the thighs to straighten them before examining the delicate lace against his tanned skin.

Small, dark curls prod through at various intervals – the juxtaposition part of the intrigue in his mind, seeing something so undoubtedly feminine as ruffles… lacy, darling ruffles like nothing he'd ever seen up close before against his hairy thighs. One by one, he lets each small fold catch his fingertips before blunted nails rake across the satin bow well below his navel.

His cock stirs, pushing slightly at the seam running down the front of the panties where the lace ruffles meet – even the slightest bit of arousal painfully obvious against the taut fabric. An unexpected groan closes his throat and he dares to rub hard down the length of the seam and between his thighs. Girls just didn't know what they took for granted – he'd be too distracted to function if he felt the draw of lace teasing his cock with each little shift of his hips.

Murdock turns on his heels, arching his back as he looks over his shoulder to see the familiar stretch of skin and muscle bare down to the pink waistband. Even over his ass, the ruffles hug his flesh tight and it takes a sweep of his hands under the waistband to clear them of his crack. Maybe the touch lingers a little longer than it should… but he's gotta say it looks good.

The bed protests under his weight as he lets himself fall forward onto it, relishing the sensation of the blanket against the lace in turn against his cock as he rolls onto his back and pushes against the pillows to make himself comfortable. Face wouldn't mind a little personal time… and he had to admit there was a little thrill to the thought that with Face's magic lure he could reasonably bring a girl in any time.

Just a little risk, nothing too extreme on leave.

"Mmm…." He groans under his breath, tucking one hand against the bed as the other traces the thick trail from his belly button slowly downward. He's not sure if it's the arousal talking or eagerness to get it over with, but the urgency drives him quickly over the waistband to rub down the increasingly tight seam.

He knows all of Face's moves, kisses on the neck and sweet nothings whispered against your ear; "Mmm, nobody knows how sexy you are…" he purrs in a much lower tone in the empty room, keenly remembering when they were in his lover's voice the first time. "And you're all mine."

With a shaking giggle, he closes his eyes and replies in his own voice; "I bet you say that to all the guys."

Rubbing with two fingers, he works the fabric over his increasingly hard shaft – shifting it just enough to avoid the seam against the sensitive tip as the panties tug against him. Then his voice deepens again, the very sound of confidence; "Only the ones I wanna keep."

Oh that. That… moment warmed him so much back then. It still does, every time he sees that smile that's just for him or catches a strong hand teasing along the back of his pants or over his neck. That same voice says clearly; "You thinking of me?"

Murdock's fingers wrap around the mostly hard shaft, stroking himself with the lace as a small wet spot stains the pink mesh underneath the dainty ruffles. "You know I am, baby…" he tells the voice in his head. "Can't get you off my mind…" he sings softly; "you are always on my mind."

"You flatter me." Face says and Murdock hears the door slam closed.

"Uh-oh…" He opens his eyes, pulling back his hand. Murdock flashes a sheepish grin; "Busted."

"No, no… by all means…" Face stretches his back, walking to the edge of his bed. A cheshire grin stretches his lips and he adds; "Don't stop on my account."

When he looks down at himself, Murdock's almost embarrassed to see the ruffles stretched tight over his manhood – the slightest hints of flesh visible between the strips of lace through the sheer mesh. "Guess I got a little excited."

He slides onto the bed and Murdock realizes he's not in trunks; they're the boxers he was wearing the night before clinging to his hips. "A little?" he grins, nuzzling against Murdock's cheek. "Any more excited and you'll mess your pretty panties."

The moan sneaks up on him, closing his throat at that image… it's not fair, Face plays dirty and he knows it. "Not mine."

"I know," he purrs, trailing his fingers across a hard nipple to the dip of his chest. "I think her name was… Amy? Ashley? A-something."

"Heather." Murdock answers, laughing against his lover's open lips before kissing him.

"Mmm, right. Goddess of the tequila shots, Heather who bet me a ride to Cabo San Lucas that I couldn't beat her at dice."

He giggles again, lurching when Face's fingers touch a ticklish spot at the top of his belly. "By the time she was done with you, you couldn't even count to six let alone roll one."

"She passed out before we could… uh…"

"Consummate your relationship?"

Face's fingers traced a lazy circle around his belly button, catching the dense curls. "Something like that."

"And you stole her panties?" He manages to ask, taking a deep breath and holding it as the familiar fingers walk down the hairy trail to the stretched waistband, tickling the bow.

"Consolation prize." He shrugs, leaning against him to press a kiss against Murdock's lips. "They look better on you."

Murdock is a little star struck, he always is when Face purrs in his ear, but manages to quip; "Now who's doing the flattering?"

"Hey, I mean it…" he protests, tracing down the seam to the curve of his lover's cock before slowly wrapping his hand around the hard shaft and drawing the ruffles tight against his skin. "This is kinda sexy. Never pictured you the kinky type." Well, not any kinkier than everything else that they do.

He opens his mouth to moan, only to find it stifled with another rough kiss as Face's hand tightens. Still, it's strange… nobody's ever seen him like that since the first time – in ladies underpants like some kind of deviant. When Face breaks away, Murdock moans; "It's… not like that…"

"It's okay…" he murmurs, squeezing him harder before drawing his hand back up to the waistband. "I like it."

And that's nearly enough for him to come undone, the wet spot spreading from the tip of his cock down to the cottony panel at the bottom as Face's palm pushes under the lace and simply covers his hardness – pushing it down with a pleasant stroke of his strong fingers. "I like you."

"I got that impression," he smirks and Murdock wants to kiss it away like he has a hundred times before – but he's too wrapped up clutching at the hotel pillows when Face's fingers once more stroke down the full length of his shaft and then over the tip only to slide effortlessly back again. If he wasn't the man with the magic hands…

"Oh God…" he moans, eyes closing tight against the sensation of being rubbed off with merely fingertips and not the familiar tight grasp.

Face chuckles under his breath, always proud of his ability to put Murdock in that state. "You're so close…" he purrs, nipping at his earlobe as his fingers tease at wiry curls under the fantastic lace. "Come for me?"

As if he has to ask. Murdock's body trembles underneath him as his weight presses closer against his side, strong fingers finally wrapping around him again only to gently squeeze and rub in short, eager strokes. Sounds tumble out of his mouth in fast vowels and hard consonants and he doesn't even realize he's not speaking English until Face says; "Is that Swahili for 'fuck me now'?"

"Take me home…" he pants, and it's a lie because damn if he actually knows what he was saying. "Don't stop… God… don't stop…"

Now that was a challenge if there ever was one, and Face was never one to back down from a challenge. "Even for this?" He asks mildly, rolling on top of him with both hands braced against Murdock's solid shoulders. Grinning wider, he bucks his hips before it even registers with Murdock that it's moved beyond the teasing stroke driving him so close to the edge – effortlessly sliding his cotton boxers against the lacy pink ruffles.

"Oh fuck me…." Murdock moans, fingers gripping even tighter on the bedding. His hips lift back up against him without prompting, digging himself even harder into each maddening thrust. Only Face… only he could drive someone this wild with a grin on his stupid lips.

Face leans forward just enough to kiss him again mid-thrust and murmurs against his open lips; "Maybe later."

The room spins a little cockeyed when he tries to open his eyes, Murdock's body giving in whether he likes it or not. Not that he doesn't like it. "You… you…" his lips form the word 'asshole' but what squeaks out is more a string of elongated sounds dropping into a whimper, and then an incontrollable giggle when Face's knees shift on the outsides of his hairy thighs, forcing them together in a way that somehow makes it feel even better.

"You love it…" he groans, his composure finally slipping as one hand slides between them and folds down the waistband of his shorts, tucking it just under his balls to drag his arousal against the soft lace. It's different, Murdock's familiar coarse chest hair against his muscles - looking him in the eyes he feels the softness against his cock.

"I do," he moans, "God I do… I do…" Another low giggle closes his throat and he wraps his arms around Face's shoulders and pulls him in closer – offering several hard thrusts back against him. His muscles clench and he lets out a sudden low groan.

It's the groan mingling with the warm spread of wetness seeping through lace coupled to Murdock's chewed fingernails digging into his shoulders that does him in. Face lowers himself closer, rocking his hips as he wraps himself around his lover, letting them both have a moment to collect themselves as he strokes his seed into the ruffles. "Christ…" he grunts against Murdock's ear, breathing heavily.

His voice drifting and giddy, Murdock says; "Well… that was interesting."

When Face laughs, his whole body seems to laugh with him until he rolls onto his back – catching his breath. "I saw you in the window," he admits… "checking out your ass."

"I wasn't!"

"It's a nice ass… I'm thinking some hi-cuts next time… maybe the matching bra…"

"I'm not…" he protests a little more weakly the second time, flushing hot at the accusation as much as the image of lace crushed against his chest.

"It's okay," Face offers him a reassuring smile, resting his forehead against Murdock's temple. "You wear them well."


End file.
